


a pinch to build a dream on

by ahtohallan_calling



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Domesticity, F/M, Fluff, fic of a fic for good things come, happy ever after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25501966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahtohallan_calling/pseuds/ahtohallan_calling
Summary: Snapshots of a happy ever after.(fic of a fic I wrote for seethedawn's amazing Good Things Come on a dare before the actual epilogue was out :') )
Relationships: Anna/Kristoff (Disney)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 47





	a pinch to build a dream on

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Seethedawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seethedawn/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Good Things Come](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18262703) by [Seethedawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seethedawn/pseuds/Seethedawn). 



> if you haven't read good things come yet....WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE. GO READ IT
> 
> molly my love...thank you for writing such a masterpiece and sharing it with us, and thank you for letting me write fic of your fic!!

The first time she catches him is the day they go to the botanical gardens again.

She flips down the mirror to do a last-minute makeup check when out of the corner of her eye she sees one of his hands slide over and deliver a swift, sharp pinch to the back of his wrist. “What was  _ that _ for?” she asks, whipping around to face him as her forehead furrows.

He stares stoically forward, but there’s a telltale redness to his cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do.” Her frown deepens as she sets a worried hand over the injured wrist. For a moment words fail her as she’s reminded of its familiar breadth, but then she asks, “Why did you do that?”

He sighs, still not meeting her eyes. “To make sure this is real.”

Her hand slides over from his wrist so she can tangle her fingers with his. “Next time, just squeeze my hand, okay?”

An aggrieved sigh escapes him, but he gives a slight nod. 

His hand doesn’t leave hers the entire afternoon.

* * *

A slight shifting against her back rouses her from slumber, and she blinks blearily awake just as he’s reaching for the back of his wrist again. Her fingers intercept the pinch just in time, and a little surprised noise escapes him.

“I thought we agreed,” she says sleepily.

For a moment the only sound is the droning voice of the narrator talking about the baby turtles taking their first steps; it reorients her, reminds her they’re on the sofa, that she’s fallen asleep in his arms without even meaning to-- well, okay, if she’s being honest, she was hoping for it.

“I know,” he admits finally. “I just never thought I’d get to do this again.”

The reminder of the in-between time hangs heavy in the air for a moment, and then she turns in his arms to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “I love you,” she whispers, and even though it’s not  _ exactly _ the first time, her heart pounds with nervousness until he turns and kisses her and says it back over and over and over again.

* * *

On another night of firsts-- each of them so wonderful in their own way she summarizes it all by calling it their first  _ real _ sleepover-- she gets ahead of him by making sure they fall asleep with his bare chest pressed against her back and his hands against her stomach. She settles her own hands over his, determined to keep them there all night.

“I know what you’re doing,” he says, pressing a lazy kiss into the tangled mess of her hair.

“Good. Then you know not to even  _ think _ about it.”

* * *

As she slides the ring into place, she sees his other hand twitching reflexively where it hangs beside his leg and knows he’s fighting the urge that doesn’t surface quite as often anymore but, as she’s come to accept, will never completely fade away.

She raises her eyes again to meet his, wearing a teary smile, and she doesn’t have to look to know that his fingers have stilled.

* * *

“What if they change their mind?” he asks nervously as she fusses over the collar of his nice shirt-- nic _ est _ , now, because these days most of his wardrobe could be described as such.

“They won’t,” she says fondly as she tugs on his collar until he leans down and kisses her. “You’re going to be the best manager ever.”

His fingers scrabble against his skin for only a moment before she intercepts them, shifting his hand to press his palm against the still-flat expanse of her abdomen. “I’m proud of you, honey,” she says softly. “We both are.”

* * *

She thinks she understands at last why he does it as she stares down at the sleeping face of their daughter, half-afraid to blink in case it’ll make her disappear. Idly curious about whether it might actually make a difference or not, she moves to pinch her own forearm.

A moment before she can, though, a broad hand comes to take a gentle hold of the back of her arm. “Ah ah ah,” he tuts. “What’s the rule?”

She sighs and lowers her hand to twine their fingers together. “Sorry. It’s just...I can’t believe it, really. That she’s really  _ here _ .”

He chuckles softly and squeezes her hand. “I’ve been thinking that same thing every day since you got me that meatball sub.”

She turns, dropping her hold on his hand so she can hug him around the waist. “It all worked out for the best in the end, though, didn’t it?”

He presses a kiss to her forehead. “Yeah. I guess it did.”


End file.
